All hands having gathered at the spot, Jenkins, the leading spirit of the festivity, passed round a hat and took up a collection of coins as a prize for the as yet unknown victor. The two boys, Billy and July formed the party of spectators, all the slackers, now only six in number, proposing to enter the contest. Lots having been drawn in order to determine who should have the first trial, the second, the third, and so on, Mitch' Jenkins announced the opening of the sport.
"Everything is lovely and the goose hangs high," he shouted. "Gentlemen--let 'er go!"
Thereupon Sweet Jackson, who had drawn the first lot, took position about fifty feet away and at a given signal started forward at a rapid run. As he neared the swinging gander, his right hand was thrust upward, and he endeavored to seize the fowl by its neck. But in this he failed, the gander cunningly twisting its head out of reach.
A loud guffaw went up from the on-looking slackers as this signal failure was witnessed. Jim Carter then ran forward and grasped at the neck of the swinging fowl with no better success. The turn of Zack James followed. He succeeded in seizing the gander's neck, and, but for the treacherous grease, its head would have accompanied him in his onward rush. Released, the unhappy bird swung back and forth, hissing and squawking in an extremely ludicrous yet pathetic manner, exciting the laughter of the slackers, the pity of the boys and the angry protest of Billy.
"Quit it! Quit it, I tell you! You-all let my gander alone!" cried the witless young man again and again as the contest continued.
Once he ran forward and tried to take the fowl down, but retired, whimpering, on receiving a resounding box on the ear from Jackson.
After all hands had made several trials and the gander's greasy neck had received a number of rude wrenches, the poor fowl held its head less high, ceased to hiss, and squawked more plaintively than ever. The game was easier now, and almost every contestant succeeded in grasping the neck as he ran past, but always failed to retain his hold.
At last, after the contest had continued for more than an hour and a half, and the object of the cruel sport had almost ceased to make any outcry whatever, Zack James leaped upward as he ran by and grasped the neck of the fowl near its breast. As his body was carried onward by the force of its momentum, his tightly gripped hand slipped rapidly along the gander's neck, but paused at its head. For one moment the man's body swung from the ground, his whole weight supported by the neck of the still living fowl. It was then that he gave his hand a vigorous twist. The next moment he pitched forward on his feet, carrying the gander's head in his grasp.